


Undress That Stress

by Zaxal



Category: Psych
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaxal/pseuds/Zaxal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn needs some cooperation to work his cure for Carlton's stress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undress That Stress

**Author's Note:**

> For Shassie Week 2014; Day Two: Domestic!

Carlton was barely through the door when he saw Shawn take a flying leap over the back of the couch. His foot caught on the back, sending him sprawling onto the floor, though he quickly picked himself up and flopped into place. His clothes were askew, hair ruffled, but he acted nonchalant as he called over his shoulder, "Welcome home, Lassie."

It was enough to make him smile, pressing his lips together to keep admonishments and concerns locked carefully away. He wanted to yell. He always wanted to yell after days like today, to make things escalate, to push and push until Shawn left to take shelter at Gus's or at the Psych office.

He never did, but he could feel it clawing its way up his throat, horrible tension threaded tightly through him made of guilt and despair that he harbored that kind of rage inside him. A bad day wasn't an excuse to want to push Shawn away, and it certainly wasn't an excuse to be an ass. The fact that he hadn't yet seemed like a very minor detail.

"Hey," Shawn said, grabbing the only throw pillow in the entire apartment and pulling it into his lap. "Come here."

Carlton resisted, jaw clenched, but Shawn tilted his head, patted the pillow. Carlton half-expected him to pull his usual gag, cooing to him to be a good Lassie, to be a good boy for him, but Shawn's eyes were full of warmth and patience. Carlton slowly sighed and loosened his tie before shrugging off his jacket.

He toed off his shoes – a bad habit he'd learned from Shawn after resisting for most of his adult life – and slowly approached the couch. Shawn grinned up at him. Carlton hesitated, "Dinner?"

"Pizza's like thirty minutes away."

"Hawaiian," he supposed with a scowl.

"And a Meat Lovers'," Shawn assured him with the same grin he got every time since he'd heard Carlton order his preferred pizza. But there was no innuendo, no 'I have meat that needs some love' along with an obscene movement of his hips.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "O'Hara called you."

Shawn made an offended noise, "Okay, first off, I can be a kind and considerate boyfriend from time-to-time, and secondly, she texted me." Rolled his shoulders to get comfortable, slouching a little back on the couch. Patted the pillow again. "Please," he asked softly, and Carlton sighed. Resigned.

"Fine."

Shawn's face lit up, and Carlton settled down on the couch, taking a deep breath before he spread out and laid down, letting his head fall on the pillow in Shawn's lap. Stared blankly at the dark TV, seeing himself, tense and miserable, and Shawn waiting a moment or two before his arm came down off the back of the couch, fingers tracing the gray hairs at his temples before they carded into his hair.

Carlton would never in a million years own up to the way the tension seeped out of his body the moment Shawn's fingers massaged his scalp, when he tugged his fingers gently through his hair. He breathed deeply, and with every release of air, he let more of the day's built-up tension and anger slip out of him until he was pliant and relaxed, leaning up into Shawn's touch.

"There you are," he murmured fondly. "There's my Lassie."

"Who else would I be?" Carlton mumbled.

Shawn's thumb rubbed in soothing circles behind his ear, and damn him if it didn't make Carlton relax, tilting his head forward to give him access. Unashamedly trusting. "I dunno who that other guy was," Shawn said, and Carlton could envision his smirk. "But I didn't like the looks of him." His fingers slid up and gently rubbed Carlton's ear, the shell and the lobe, never tugging, never painful, just touching for the sake of touch.

"Spencer," he sighed as he reached his threshold for this kind of coddling. But when he sat up, Shawn wasn't offended, wasn't concerned or demanding. Just hooked his fingers in the front of Carlton's shirt and pulled him closer, mouth warm against his. By the time they parted, a few buttons of his shirt had been undone, and Shawn was grinning deviously.

Carlton surged forward to kiss that stupid smile off his face, burying his fingers in Shawn's hair to tilt his head, to give himself all the access he wanted. Shawn went willingly where he led, hands determinedly set on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

They didn't force themselves apart until the doorbell rang.


End file.
